Just a Splinter
by plastickisses
Summary: Malik doesn't care about Altair one single bit, until a common enemy fuels their "friendship".


Altair was completely incapable of emotion, Malik had noted the moment they met each other. He was devoid of any compassion whatsoever, a thing Malik had learned from his brother getting killed, as well as getting his own arm torn from it's limb. And through it all, Malik never stopped hating him. A fact he was proud of, because even if he showed any signs of helpfulness to Altair, who would care? Not Altair. Malik stared into the dimly lit room, awaiting the return of his misery. He turned to the blank piece of parchment in front of him, and stared at the tip of the quill until it blurred. He stretched his arm and glanced at the paper, as if expecting the words to magically appear. He grunted and put down the pen, pushing the paper away, no use trying to write when he couldn't think properly. Suddenly the sound of rustling movement caught his ears and he stood up quickly his eyes focusing on the secret entrance. Suddenly, white hood and all, Altair appeared, his usual frown playing on his half-hidden face. Malik sat back down on his chair and observed Altair with a calculating stare.

"I am going to rest now." Altair's awkward voice came whenever he talked to Malik. Malik sighed and waved, not caring what the hell Altair was doing. One thing Malik enjoyed about Altair was that he was silent and it was good that he could ignore his horribly solemn presence whenever he did come back. Altair had left the interior and moved to the tiny bedroom that occupied one side of the secret hideout. Malik scratched his chin and picked up the quill again, beginning to write. His mind wandered to much more interesting things, like having a normal life. He started when a small yelp sounded from the bedroom. Malik looked down at the parchment, barely anything written (he wasn't even sure what he was writing about.), automatically assuming that Altair had crushed something under his indifferent boot. He began scribbling again when suddenly he heard a thump from the room. He looked up, half-amused and half-irritated. He stood up, when suddenly Altair wobbled into the front room holding his left hand with his right hand. The first thing Malik thought was that Altair had stabbed himself with his hidden blade, and nearly broke down in a fit of laughter, but realized there was no blood. This made him less interested then before.

"What is the matter with you?" Malik opted to act nice this time, even an old sour man like Altair could be an adult.

"Nothing." _Scratch that, _Malik muttered in his head. To this day, Altair refused to say or explain anything that happened in his life. Malik thought it was a phase, but still Altair didn't budge. He never did.

Malik made a chuckling sound at the back of his throat, nearly making him gag, and lifted an eyebrow at Altair, "Honestly, you're going to act like a child?" He said leaning back in his chair. Altair was silent, as if debating whether to come nearer, or slither back into the room. He teetered on going back, but then stepped inwardly.

"It's nothing.." He said a little less stern. Malik was now confused, this was very unlike Altair, he wouldn't whimper about something unless it pertained to death. Even then he'd be stoic and admit to death! Malik sighed and stood up from his chair walking over to Altair. He brandished his arm, motioning to the "wounded" arm Altair was holding. Altair looked away and Malik sensed something. _No it couldn't…embarrassment? _Malik laughed to himself, _Yeah right._

"Just show it to me." He said shaking his head slightly, "It can't be th-" Altair moved his hand swiftly in front of Malik's face and brought it back to himself in the same second. Malik glared hardly at Altair, _Why is he acting like a child?_

"Altair…" Malik said seriously. Altair slowly removed his hand and brought it into Malik's eyesight, bracing him for the horrid sight. Malik narrowed his eyes looking for the source, when he saw…

"_A splinter!" _Malik nearly yelled. Altair's frown deepened and he turned away. Malik's eyes began to water and he busted out laughing. Altair turned back and growled under his breath.

"I-" He began but Malik cut him off with another bout of laughter.

"Honestly? A splinter!" He laughed, "The mighty Altair, wounded by a splinter…" He whispered feebly before laughter took over again. Altair flexed his hand, ready to strike Malik's jaw, when Malik finally panted and put a hand against the wall.

"Really?" He wiped some tears from his eyes, "It's just a splinter. What harm is that…?" Malik blinked as Altair thrust his hand in front of his face.

"Remove it…" He muttered, and his mouth contorted as if he were struggling with something difficult. Malik raised both of his eyebrows in questioning.

"P..lea..Remove it." Altair said changing his mind. Malik sighed, might as well, and pointed at the chair he was sitting at before. Altair hesitated and then took the assigned seat reluctantly. Malik peered at the splinter with disdain, it was imbedded into the skin pretty deep. He poked it and looked at Altair, who of course showed no emotion. Malik looked back down at the splinter, It was starting to get swollen, which probably wasn't a good thing. He grasped the tip of the wood that was peeking out of the finger and pulled. _Hard_. Altair jumped as the piece of wood came clean out. Malik examined it and Altair observed with his usual air of calm.

"Well that was disgusting." He said bemused. Looking up for the slightest second he thought he saw the hindering of a smile on Altair's lips. Malik shook his head, Nah…this was Altair. Malik stood up and looked down at Altair like a strict parent.

"Be careful next time." He found himself saying. It wasn't like he cared, he just didn't want anymore interruptions in his working (WHAT WORKING?). Altair had already left the seat and was hurrying to the exit, he climbed up swiftly but looked down at Malik for a second. It was one of the few times Malik could see his eyes. They looked sad and aged. He couldn't help but feel bad. Altair had disappeared and Malik sat back down in the seat beginning to write. He looked at the dislodged splinter and smiled, it actually helped a little bit, for a few moments they acted like they were friendly. Malik snickered, that would probably be the only time. He put the wood down and began writing, maybe he could grow to be friends with Al-

"I won't be coming back later." Altair's voice suddenly sounded, and Malik jumped the ink spilling all over the parchment and his finger grazed the chair. A searing pain began to spread through his hand and he looked down.

"Altair…I really hate you."

Altair ran.

EXTRA

Desmond started awake, "Oh…I had the worst dream ever." He muttered rubbing his head. He looked around and blinked, doing a double-take. His other ancestor, Ezio, was fiddling with the radio. He looked at Desmond, mumbled something in Italian. Then found the right station. Suddenly, Desmond was pulled from the chair and Altair grasped him on the shoulder. Desmond stared at all that was occurring.

What the fuck.

Ezio turned up the volume full blast, and Desmond's face turned to one of sheer horror.

_One, two, three, not only you and me, go one-eighty da-grees and I'm caught in between.._

Ezio slipped of his sash and started waving it around slapping Desmond with it. Desmond's mouth was sealed. What the fuck?

End.


End file.
